Hurt Read online

  Hurt

  A Collection

  with stories from

  Rachel Van Dyken, Kristin Vayden, & Elise Faber

  Published by Blue Tulip Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 RACHEL VAN DYKEN, KRISTIN VAYDEN,

  and ELISE FABER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  HURT: A COLLECTION

  ENRAPTURE

  Copyright © 2015 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

  THE INITIATION

  Copyright © 2015 KRISTIN VAYDEN

  ICE

  Copyright © 2015 ELISE FABER

  ISBN: 978-1-942246-57-2

  Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design

  ENRAPTURE

  by Rachel Van Dyken

  Enrapture: To move to rapture; delight beyond measure. Example: I was enraptured by her then; I live for her now.

  PROLOGUE

  I was so angry at him, angry, hurt, confused, frustrated. Luca was trying to protect everyone, but mainly, he was trying to protect our children and the memory of our love. I know it’s difficult, but try not to judge, or cast that first stone. You will go to great lengths when you fall in love, my dear girl. You will do anything for that person. You will die for them. You will kill for them. You will breathe only for them. Things you never thought you would do, choices you never thought you’d make, suddenly — they’re offered — and I must admit I was never strong enough to say no. I’m not even strong enough now. You may be surprised at what you find. I know I was… I still am, as I write these little extra notes on the original pages. You’ll note that the handwriting is different. The actual story was written as it happened. The notes before each chapter are a lot more… recent. Maybe it is best that I’m sick again. For sickness is the only thing that ever kept me out of his arms. Sickness kept me with your grandfather, and, in ways, that makes me sad. He became my caretaker — rather than my lover. And for that, I wonder if he will ever truly forgive me — forgive us. —Grandma Alfero

  Summer 1997

  “SHE’S BEAUTIFUL.” I BOUNCED MY GRANDDAUGHTER on my knee and tried to keep the smile plastered across my face. She really was beautiful, and she held a special place in my heart, one that I hadn’t realized was still empty, always empty. She’d taken his spot; I was thankful. Grateful beyond words.

  Our son Mario had never felt like our son. From an early age, Frank had taught him the ways of the family, what was expected of him. It seemed one day I’d been changing his diapers; the very next, he’d come home bloody and bruised, a fire behind his eyes as he pushed me away and said that men didn’t need hugs.

  He’d been six.

  I’d mourned the loss of my son that day, more than anyone would ever know. I’d been a young mother, had no idea what was expected of me. And as much as Frank had tried to keep me happy, there was an emptiness, an indescribable emptiness that nothing could fill, not even Mario.

  Mario had fallen in love young, seventeen, married at eighteen and had a baby within that first year with the love of his life.

  Tracey was perfect, my little princess.

  “Her birthday will be soon,” Frank announced, pulling Tracey from my lap and bouncing her on his. In his fifties, he was still handsome, though most of his hair had started to gray around the temples. He flashed me a bright white smile, his prominent jaw tightening as the smile widened at Tracey’s giggles.

  “I wish we would have had another,” he whispered to me once Mario had gone to check in on his wife. “Don’t you?”

  Yes. I’d wanted children. Hundreds of children. None of them with him.

  I think he saw the truth in my eyes, for he averted his gaze and frowned. “I’ll be out of town on business for a few weeks, Joyce.”

  “Oh.” I nodded and wrung my hands together.

  When he left for business, it usually meant he was visiting family in New York. Killing them off was more like it — straightening up the riff raff and making sure the cousins stayed in line. They had always been unruly, and with Frank at the head of the Alfero family and Luca at the head of the Nicolasi family, they were stuck between two heads of enormous power, unable to breathe without being questioned, unable to have their own lives without reporting to one or both men.

  “Be safe, Frank.”

  He handed Trace back to me, his eyes lingering on my left hand where the simple gold band resided. With a sigh, he twisted the ring around my finger. I’d been losing more and more weight. I knew he was worried, and I loved him for it. I loved him as much as I was capable. I’m not sure if that made me a monster, or just honest.

  “Joyce…” His voice shook. “… why don’t I take this in? It needs cleaning and, well, I think it’s time for an upgrade.”

  Something was off about his voice, but like a good wife, like the dutiful wife I’d always been to Frank — and I’d always be — I slid off my ring and placed it in the palm of his hand.

  He stood. “I leave this evening. I’ll have one of the men drive you back to the house.”

  “Good.” I touched the pearls across my neck; they’d been an early birthday present. I was turning forty-one in two weeks. Maybe that was why he’d given me my present early, just in case he didn’t return. I would at least have something to remember him by.

  Frank’s eyes softened as he tucked a piece of fallen hair behind my ear; his warm hand moved to caress my cheek and then squeeze my chin as he gazed deeply in my eyes. “Sometimes… it is best to live without regret.”

  “It is.” His voice had betrayed nothing, but I agreed with him because I knew he was trying to communicate with me, in typical Frank fashion. “You should go.”

  “I’ll always come back to you, Joyce.” He released my chin and stood to his full height. “Regardless of what you do, regardless of what happens… I am yours. I will always be yours. I will always put your life and your happiness before mine. I will not make the same mistake again.” With that, he kissed the top of my head and walked from the room.

  Tracey giggled and pointed at his retreating form while Mario returned briefly, kissing Frank on both cheeks and scooping Trace into his arms.

  Hours later, I walked out into the moonlight. A black Mercedes was waiting.

  A black Mercedes was always waiting.

  Even when I died, I imagined, it would carry my casket.

  The summer wind still held a Chicago briskness to it, and I hugged my jacket closer to my small frame.

  I opened the door to the back seat and slid in.

  “Joyce.” A familiar deep voice penetrated the darkness and aimed straight for my heart, my very soul.

  “Luca,” I whispered.

  He didn’t look at me.

  But he covered my left hand — my ring-less left hand — with his and barked sternly to the driver. “Airport. We have a plane to catch.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present day

  Nixon

  “TRACE?” I FROWNED AS SHE HOVERED over something, her soft sobs causing terror to flood to all the wrong areas. Fear was so completely unnatural to me that I hated to admit my first response was usually anger. I counted for a few seconds before I gently wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “It’s just so sad!” She wiped her cheeks and pointed at the
discarded diary laying on the bed; pieces of old tearstained papers were littered around the book.

  A black folder.

  Frank’s.

  “Trace…” I couldn’t keep the warning edge out of my voice. “…what the hell did you do?”

  “It’s my grandpa’s.”

  “No shit.”

  “Nixon!” She jerked free from me and stood, “You know my grandpa. He doesn’t just leave important information behind, alright? It was on the breakfast table this morning with a note on it.”

  “Did the note say Trace or Burn?” I questioned her, crossing my arms. “Be honest, Trace. I love you, but whatever the hell’s in that folder, I’m not so sure he’d want you to read it.” And quite honestly, it sickened me to know that Trace would know every dirty little secret Frank had. I wanted our child to grow up with a grandfather, and, with the fraction of what I knew about his past, I could envision Trace, in her emotional state, trying to keep our baby away from him out of fear.

  “Me.” She swallowed, narrowing me with one of her stern gazes as she jutted out her chin and mimicked me by crossing her own arms. “So stop being an ass. Grandpa’s in New York. Clearly he left this behind so I could read it without him around.”

  “Oh, clearly,” I mumbled dryly, already planning on killing Frank or at least pointing a gun at him while I questioned why the hell he’d leave something like that for a hormonal Trace to read. “Just, maybe wait until after the baby’s born.” Or forever. That works too.

  “But…” She sniffled. “… it makes so much sense now — what happened with Grandma and Luca.”

  I tried not to look interested.

  Chase, clearly winning for the worst timing ever, popped his head in the room and said, “Did I hear Grandma and Luca?”

  Mil pushed him forward and eyed us both. “Give over the goods.”

  “It’s private,” I barked.

  “They were in love.” Trace started sniffling again. Was there a pill for that? To keep the tears in? Probably insensitive to ask the family doctor that.

  Chase gave me a cocky grin before pulling Trace in for a side hug while at the same time glancing down at the bed where the pieces of paper lay scattered. “I remember a time when we read the full diary together, you know, the one without the missing pages? Clearly, that was the PG-rated version.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Wine, good food, good laughs, good sex.”

  I lunged for him, but Mil blocked my way. Mainly because he’d said sex, and that last time they’d read the diary they had thought I was dead, and they’d used it as a way to help Trace through a hard time. I’d left it as a clue so they would know that things weren’t always what they seemed. The really crazy part was that the pages I had ripped from it that day and given to Luca were the very ones that Trace was now reading.

  “Don’t encourage him.” She pushed back against my chest and rolled her eyes at her husband. “Chase, as curious as we all are, Trace doesn’t have to say anything.”

  “Agreed.” I gave a silent nod in Mil’s direction just as Tex waltzed by the bedroom door, walked backward, froze, and smirked.

  “Folder time?”

  “Hell,” I snarled. “Does everyone know?”

  “You would too if you would have gotten up in time for family breakfast.” Tex chuckled darkly. “But Trace said something about you being exhausted, so I let it slide.”

  Exhausted, because not only was Trace emotional, but she was horny as hell and still somehow managed to wake up at seven, while I moaned and asked for five more minutes of uninterrupted sleep so I could at least say I’d had two hours.

  “Mo!” Tex yelled loudly.

  I prayed for patience.

  “What?” She yelled just as loud, even though she was literally standing right by his side when she answered.

  “Folder time.”

  “Thank God!” she shouted. “I was going to steal it later.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I warned my twin.

  “She totally would.” Chase elbowed me. “Mil even offered to make copies.”

  “Where’s the damn privacy in this house?” I shouted just as Phoenix and Bee strolled in.

  Bee had a bag of chips, and Phoenix was carrying the dip.

  “So, where are we doing this?” Bee chomped down on a tortilla chip and eyed the folder.

  “We…” I emphasized the word. “...are not prying into Frank’s life.”

  Phoenix gave me a helpless look while Bee rolled her eyes. “Whatever, the parts I saw were really juicy, and I think I speak for pregnant women everywhere when I say—“

  Her mouth was suddenly covered by Phoenix’s hand.

  “Well…” Trace chewed her lower lip. “… Sergio and Grandpa are both gone right now, so maybe it’s best we all learn what exactly they’re walking into. The page I just read mentioned New York.”

  “Hate New York,” Tex grumbled. “Bunch of asses who don’t listen, ever. If I have to go to New York one more time—“

  ‘’Well.” Phoenix made a cutting motion with his hand to keep Tex from blurting out more family secrets, no doubt. “There’s no harm in reading what he clearly wanted them to know.”

  “Yes!” Mo and Bee high-fived while Mil grabbed Trace’s hand, steadying her on her feet as they all walked out of the room.

  Once it was just the guys, I turned to Phoenix. “Have you read his folder?”

  He was silent and then, “How bad?”

  “On a scale of one to ten?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Off the charts.”

  “Oh good. Thanks for that comforting thought.”

  “Don’t do comfort, you know that.” Phoenix sighed. “But it was gonna come out either now or later when Luca’s twins get here, and Frank has a heart-to-heart with Trace. Maybe it’s time…. to dig up the demons.”

  “I’d rather not. Don’t you think between all of the families we have enough?”

  Phoenix snorted. “Seriously, man, you don’t even know the half of it.”

  “Our current conversation isn’t giving me much confidence in the future of our families,” I grumbled. “How do we do things better… different?”

  “Learn...” Phoenix said after a few silent moments. He stared at the blank wall. “… from their mistakes.”

  “Maybe that’s why he left it.”

  “Well, it sure as hell isn’t a perfect ending.”

  “Shit.”

  “Guys!” Trace poked her head back in the room. “Come on!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  1997

  Joyce

  WE DIDN’T SPEAK ON THE WAY to the airport. A private jet was waiting for us, the staff standing outside ready to open our doors and fall all over themselves as they typically did where any of the family were concerned.

  My door opened.

  I was helped out by the driver.

  Calm on the outside, a complete wreck on the inside, I ran my hands over my wrinkled black dress and fought a losing battle with keeping my head held high as Luca slowly made his way around the car.

  One of the attendants took luggage from the trunk to the belly of the plane. The wind picked up. I shivered.

  Then Luca reached for my hand.

  And didn’t let go as we walked slowly up the stairs and into the plane. A dinner was set up for us in the main cabin. There were only twelve seats. A full bar lined one side, and music floated through the tense air.

  Luca still didn’t speak to me.

  But he didn’t need to.

  His crystal blue eyes met mine, for a few seconds, and with one nod at my left hand…

  I knew.

  With trembling fingers, I brought my hand to my lips then looked down at the place where my ring should have been.

  “You know...” Luca finally spoke. He’d been spending most his time in Sicily. It showed in the way he curled his words; they wrapped around me like a heated kiss. “… I asked him for one thing.”

  “Did you?” It was hard to breath
e. The plane started its taxi on the runway.

  “Can you guess what it was?”

  I reached for my wine and shook my head.

  The plane picked up speed.

  My heart galloped in my chest.

  “You,” he whispered. “I begged him… for one last moment with you.”

  “But…” I shook my head. “… I’m married.”

  “I would never ask you to cheat on my brother. I would never ask you to disrespect yourself in that way.” Luca leaned forward. His words rasped, crackled against my body as if they held heat. “But I do ask that you spend time with me. Time was stolen from us. I mean to gain it back, with Frank’s blessing of course.”

  “He knows.” I hung my head.

  “Joyce…” Luca reached for my hand and squeezed. “… it was his idea, once I told him what I wanted in exchange for my silence.”

  “Silence?” I frowned. “Silence over what?”

  “A death will occur.” Luca nodded. “That is all you need to know.”

  “Whose?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  I sighed. “Where are we going?”

  He stared at me long and hard before answering. “My ranch.”

  “A ranch?” I couldn’t hold back my smile.

  His own smile lit up his dark features. “A long time ago, someone told me I needed to work if I was to earn the woman of my dreams. My first purchase as the boss of the Nicolasi family was a cattle ranch. I raise beef.”

  “Let me guess.” I giggled. “You butcher cows as well?”

  “I’m very good with butchering,” he said seriously.

  “Yeah…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “… so I’ve heard.”

  “Joyce.” My name… I’d never forget the way he said my name, like a vow. “Two weeks. For two weeks, you’re mine. Say yes.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll turn the plane around.”